


The Trouble with Assumptions

by LadyJanriel



Series: Trials and Tribulations [4]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, BOTTOM MINHO, Bottom Thomas, Closet Masochist, Established Relationship, Insecurity, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Movie Night, Multi, Newt tops, Sexual Content, Sexual Dysfunction, Slice of Life, Thomas tops, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanriel/pseuds/LadyJanriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Continued from Trials & Tribulations of Love) </p>
<p>Thomas's jealousy, insecurities and misunderstanding of his involvement with Newt and Minho continue to worsen. Minho and Newt wonder how such a smart boy can be such a dumbass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory College AU because yesssssssss. Wrote this for poly-ship day today. Why not celebrate with some OT3 GOODNESS?!
> 
> This short story is going to be a part of my TMR College AU nonsense whenever I become decidedly -unlazy- to post up the whole story. For now, chapters are just going to crop up as stand-alone since they technically CAN stand alone.
> 
> Rated Mature because of past sexual exploits.

He hated to admit it, but watching his boyfriends get lovey-dovey when they thought he wasn’t around irked him. It wasn’t so much that they did it behind his back—Newt and Minho were very honest about their feelings and that was perfectly fine with Thomas--it was because of the way Thomas felt after walking in on such intimacy that annoyed him. There was a certain gentleness they had for each other that Thomas didn’t feel when it was the three of them. They cared about him, yes, but it didn’t feel nearly as genuine when it was just Newt and Minho.

Minho was considerate of Newt when they were alone. Thomas once caught Minho giving Newt a bigger share of the last piece of strawberry shortcake despite knowing it would be a long while until they had more again. Newt gave Minho a lot more leeway when it came to the things he had done wrong. When they made love—and Thomas would accidentally walk in on them—it was slow and methodical. Minho would rock his hips in ways Thomas thought he was incapable of doing and Newt was ever so mindful of all of Minho’s sweet spots.

Thomas saw none of that.

Newt scolded him like a mother would a child and Minho would sometimes bully him playfully. 

Sex with them was very much the same. If Thomas was giving, Newt always had a thing or two to say. Things that worked for Minho didn’t work when Thomas did it, even though he was certain he was doing them exactly the way he had seen Minho do it, but Newt was never satisfied. In fact, he tended to be a little agitated whenever Thomas tried to emulate Minho. When Thomas was receiving, Newt was a lot more dominating. He wasn’t as bad as Minho, who tended to be rough and almost barbaric, but he was definitely a lot less forgiving. Sex with Minho was animalistic. It was taxing physically and Thomas often times came out with more cuts than when he went in. Sex with Newt was like psychological warfare, it was mentally exhausting and he lost _every freaking time_. 

It was enough to make Thomas insecure about his position in their relationship.

It was worse during their threesomes. Thomas suspected Minho was a closet sadist. He was already a bastard when it came to their one-on-one time, but in a threesome, it was like Minho was three times as worse. He had a habit of biting Thomas’s flesh in the midst of their ministrations or scratching the ever living hell out of him without warning. He’d dug his nails deep enough to draw beads of blood once or twice.

Honestly, Thomas was okay with it. If that was what Minho needed to climb over the edge then he would be willing to be the boy’s scratching post, but when it happened every single time of their love making? Thomas wasn’t sure he could deal with it. Not only that, did they honestly need to restrain him? It wasn’t like he planned on running away. Restraining him felt more like a hindrance in their threesome. He was often the filling in their sandwich; Minho would ram him from the back and Thomas would thrust into Newt that was how they usually went. Sometimes, he would pleasure Newt enough to reach orgasm before Minho did, and that alone was enough to elate Thomas for the moment, but lately, Newt hadn’t wanted to be on the receiving end. He seemed to want to tie up Thomas in various creative ways then fuck his throat raw. They would switch from time to time, so that it was Minho trying to choke him and Newt trying to ram him down.

It seemed all they really wanted to do was get their fill of him and toss him aside.

If he had to be honest with himself, Thomas didn’t mind rough sex. What he did mind was feeling like a toy for his boyfriends. Minho and Newt were certainly making him feel like he was nothing more than a glorified dildo.

Watching them now, as Newt microwaved a bag of popcorn for their movie night and Minho cracked a joke about their choice of film, made Thomas’s blood boil. He felt he was being petty. It wasn’t common for them to have an assignment free Friday night, but Thomas couldn’t quell the bad temperament simmering within his veins. Minho and Newt had a breakfast date that morning while Thomas overslept and was late for his first class. They ate lunch together while Thomas endured thirty minutes of Rat Man lecturing him on his sub-par essay, which received the highest grade in the class despite one minor error. As for dinner, Thomas ate alone because Minho had track practice and Newt wanted to add the finishing touches on his project due next week.

Yes, Thomas felt incredibly bitter in the presence of his roommates and, sadly, he felt having a movie night with them was not something he wanted to do. So instead of joining Minho on the floor, he climbed into the bed and turned his back on the two of them like a petulant child. He was content with glaring holes into the wall for the duration of their movie night when instead of hearing the tell-tale sounds of a movie starting or the popping of kernel, he heard silence. He resisted the urge to turn around. He already felt like a child in his temperament, he didn’t want to see the looks on their faces because of it.

The silence persisted for another few seconds until he felt the mattress dip under the weight of one of his roommates. A hand gently brushed aside a strand of his bangs in what he guessed was meant to be a placating gesture.

“What’s wrong Tommy? Are you sick?”

Newt probably meant to sound concerned, but Thomas heard the disappointment laced in his question. He couldn’t tell if it was from the idea of him getting sick despite knowing how much Newt hated them getting ill or if it was because he was being a brat in the middle of what was supposed to be a great night with lovers. Being so uncertain made him all the more bitter.

“No,” He bit out, his body tensing. “I’m not sick, I’m just in a bad mood.”

“On movie night?” Minho this time, and he most certainly sounded annoyed. “Oh come on Thomas! Don’t be a shuck face. Get out of your funk and watch the movie with us.”

Thomas curled tighter into himself, trying his best to retrain the boiling rage inside.

“How are we supposed to cuddle together if you’re going to lay around moping?”

Thomas whirled on them like lightning, his brown eyes blazing in fury. “The same way you do when I’m not around, Minho! Don’t pretend like you actually give a klunk if I’m here or not. I’m only convenient when the frustration is too much, remember?” 

Newt frowned, taken aback by the boy’s outburst. “What the bloody hell are you talking about, Tommy?”

Thomas eyed the confused blond then the stunned expression on Minho’s face. He turned his back on them once more, having no desire to explain his concerns.

Minho’s surprised morphed into annoyance.

“Don’t snap at me and not explain yourself! What the hell is your problem Thomas? You’ve been pissy all day and I’m starting to get really tired of it.”  


The brunet barked out a nasty laugh. He missed the way Newt gripped the edge of his mattress or the thinly veiled look of unease in Minho’s eyes. He turned back to the Asian, his expression contorted into a bitter scowl.

“Sorry if my attitude is getting on your nerves, Minho. Why don’t I do all of us a favor and leave? That way, you guys won’t have to worry about me being in the way.”

He made to climb out of the bunk, but felt Newt’s hand thud against his chest. He pushed the younger male back into the bunk as Minho and Newt eyed him with piercing eyes.

“Tommy, what are you talking about?” The blond demanded, keeping him rooted in place. “When did we ever say you were in the way?”

“Stop pretending like you care Newt! You two obviously don’t!”

“Are you kidding me?!” Minho snapped. “What the—”

Newt silenced the older male with a dark glare. He turned back to Thomas, who glowered darkly into the sheets in a childish act of defiance. They would have thought it adorable if it didn’t concern them so much.

“Tell us why you think we don’t care.”

Thomas grimaced. He didn’t want to have to think about it again, but Newt was a stubborn bastard. He wasn’t going to let him go otherwise.

“You two treat each other differently than when you’re with me,” He began, annoyed with his dejected tone. The last thing he wanted was for them to know he was hurting. Being angry was a safer emotion. “You guys are tender together, loving. When you have sex, it’s sweet and romantic, but when it’s me, it’s rough and vicious.” He scowled again. He stared into their eyes with a penetrating gaze, silently challenging them to prove him wrong. “It’s not fair.”

Minho and Newt exchanged expressions before turning back to Thomas.

“That’s not our fault though.”

Thomas felt his blood freeze just as Newt shot Minho another judgmental glare. (Minho wilted under the blond’s gaze, but it wasn’t enough to make him retract his words.)

“What he means is, we’re rough because that’s what _you want_ , Tommy.”

“I wouldn’t be upset if that was something I wanted, Newt!”

Newt heaved a heavy sigh. He gave Minho a pleading look before shifting to the side slightly, giving Thomas a better view of the Track Star on the floor.

“Listen Thomas, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your brain gets in the way a lot when it comes to sex. You over think everything and that’s a problem. In fact,” Minho gave Newt a meaningful look before turning dark eyes back to the boy in question. “There was a time Newt and I thought you were miserable being with us because of how distracted you were when it came to sex. But then, we realized you weren’t disinterested, you were just thinking.” He frowned suddenly, as though he were loath to admit the reality of his words. “We came to the consensus you weren’t getting enough pleasure out of us, so we came up with an experiment.”

“An experiment?” Thomas deadpanned.

The boys nodded solemnly.

“That’s great. Enlighten me.”

The sarcasm wasn’t appreciated, but Thomas could careless at this point. He wanted to hear what half-assed methods they came up with for treating him this way.

“I get your pissed, especially since we didn’t tell you about it, but you can’t say it didn’t freaking work. We spent two months on this experiment and compared notes every chance we got just so we understood what got you off and what didn’t.”

“For instance,” Newt continued before Thomas could interrupt. “We figured out you definitely prefer threesomes as opposed to individual sex. Even if we weren’t involved directly, you were more aroused with the three of us in the room than when one of us wasn’t.” He lifted up a second finger. “Secondly, you were more likely to respond to physical pain than if no pain was involved, as was evident in the way Minho would bite you.”

“Which is all great and kinky but damn it Thomas, you are the absolute worst person when it comes to cleaning your injuries!”

“Thirdly,” Newt continued, raising another finger on his mental checklist. “Your orgasm came quicker when you were being scolded than praised. In all, your orgasms lasted longer under harsher treatment than when we were being gentle.”

“Need I remind you the one time we had a threesome and you were the only one who didn’t cum despite being in the middle?” Minho added bitterly.

“Can’t you let that go?” Thomas pleaded. He could still feel the utter mortification he felt from that horrible instance.

“No, I can’t. That was humiliating for everyone and it still haunts my dreams to this day.” Minho huffed.

“What we’re _trying_ to say is the only way to make you feel good during sex is with lots of pain and domination.”

“You guys can’t be serious.”

“Speak for yourself, it’s your body shuckface.”

“Think about the last time we had sex.” Newt started. “How long was your orgasm? And why was that?”

Thomas thought back to their last sexual encounter about two weeks ago. It had been around the time he began to notice their treatment of him. That time, Minho had tied him his wrists behind his back whilst Newt rammed into him with enough force, it warranted a noise complaint from the neighbors. That was also the time Minho nearly choked him with his hazardous thrusting. Although, his orgasm did blind him for a good thirty seconds (and the trails of semen Minho pumped out of him felt never ending despite how sensitive his dick became).

Maybe they had a point. Thomas wasn’t a typical lover. He needed pain to keep him focused and powerful thrusts to push him over the edge. It was no wonder Minho and Newt sought solace amongst themselves. It seemed stressful trying to tend to Thomas’s needs.

His trail of thought lead to another can of worms. If he was such a hard lover to please, why did they—

He heard their long suffering sighs before he felt Newt’s hands pull him out of the bunk. He was on the floor before he could blink, situated in between Newt’s legs and held against the blond’s chest. Minho grabbed the bowl of popcorn abandoned on the counter before joining them. He rested himself against Thomas, pinning the brunet between them like a captive. Newt pressed PLAY on the remote and settled against the wall of pillows meant for the three of them.

“Stop thinking for once and enjoy the movie, okay?” Newt implored, holding him close. “We’ll talk more about this later, I promise.”

Thomas sighed. He really didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, but he would deal. After all, it wasn’t everyday he got to spend quality time with his boyfriends and if they cared enough about his needs to tire themselves just to satisfy him, the most he could do was sit through a movie with them without complaint.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully everyone's caught up with Trials and Tribulations of Love/Assumptions!

Thomas woke up to the amused smile of Teresa hanging over him. 

“Wha--?!” He jerked away, banging his shoulder against the wall.

She laughed, slipping off the bed. “Calm down, it’s just me. You left the door open so I thought you were awake.”

“What are you doing here?”

Teresa shrugged, looking bored. “No one told me they had plans today so I decided to see what you were up to. We don’t get to see each other much, Tom. It’s sad.” She gestured to the door, still half-open, and said, “Want to grab lunch? We have a lot to catch up on.” 

Thomas smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Hanging out with Teresa brought back fond memories to Thomas. They’d been friends since elementary, but drifted apart during the four years they were away from each other. Teresa’s appearance in WCKD U. had been an unexpected but pleasant surprise. Thomas wasn’t sure what she was studying, they didn’t really bother with things like that. They only talked about their hopes and wishes for the future and how her relationship with Aris fared. (Thomas didn’t really like the guy, but he supposed he would never accept any guy she dated.) Even now, as Thomas munched on a grilled chicken wrap and Teresa picked at her French fries, their conversation wheeled back around to Aris and their friends.

“I have no classes with him this semester, but he promised to make better effort in sparing free time for us.”

“I told that to the guys too.”

Teresa chewed on a french fry, her blue eyes inquisitive. “What’s with you and them anyway?”

Thomas felt his heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“Are you dating Newt or Minho?” She dipped her fry into the small container of ketchup. “I always thought they were dating each other but Rachel said she saw Minho get really cozy with you the other day. Did they break up?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He cleared his throat, surprisingly uncomfortable. Teresa was an opened minded girl, had always been, but Thomas wasn’t sure exactly how far that extended. He didn’t want to trouble her, or worse, didn’t want to lose her friendship over something like this. Still, not telling her was something he didn’t want to do. They were childhood friends after all.

“It’s… complicated.” He said instead, wincing.

She smirked. “I’m listening.”

“Alright but… don’t freak out.” He pleaded. 

She sat up straighter and gave a small nod to show he had her undivided attention. Thomas took a deep breath, his hands trembling.

“I’m dating them both. Together.”

Teresa’s brows rose to her hairline. 

“You mean like a polyamorous relationship? I didn’t know you were into that.”

“I’m not—not really—but…” He shrugged, unable to find the words. “I don’t know. They asked me and I said yes.”

She laughed, startling the boy. 

“You haven’t changed at all. You’re still just as curious as when we were kids.”

He blushed, embarrassed but relieved. She didn’t seem at all bothered by his poly-relationship. She eyed him then, blue eyes searching his face for something he wasn’t sure she would find. Her smile turned soft, a strange tenderness lighting her eyes.

“Are you okay?” You seem kind of… on edge lately. Are you… are you happy with them?”

“Yes.” The word slipped from his lips without hesitance. Thomas found it was the truth. He was happy with Minho and Newt. He only wished they’d been honest with him about their experimentation, but honesty was a two-way streak. He should have confronted them sooner.

“It’s just…” Ugh, did he want to talk about it? He felt the girl nudge his shoulder, a silent cajoling to continue. Thomas worried his bottom lip, wincing at the freshly made cut on his lip. “We’ve been having trouble in our, uh, intimate life. I found out that they’ve been experimenting with me in the hopes of fixating it.”

Teresa nodded. “Okay, and?”

Thomas worried his lip again. “They did this for two months without telling me. And I just… ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel.” He confessed. He ran a hand through his hair, his heart racing in his chest.

“On the one hand, I’m angry they didn’t tell me, but on the other it’s my fault for not confronting them sooner. They did this for my benefit, to make me feel good during sex but…” he trailed off, his leg bouncing against the pavement. 

Concern washed over Teresa’s face as he ranted, her French fries forgotten in her hand.

“They’re different with each other than they are with me, Teresa. They’re… they’re cute together, like an actual couple in love.” Another hand brushed through his brown locks. His knee bobbed up and down. “I—I don’t know. I feel like when it’s us together, it’s all about the sex and who cums; who doesn’t. It’s great, it’s exciting, but it’s painful and lonely and—and—but when’s it’s them together, it’s not about sex. It’s… its love and romance. It’s intimacy. I—I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Thomas,” she pressed a gentle hand against his knee, stopping his erratic bouncing. She gazed into his eyes, the worry palpable on her face. He felt bad again for knowing he was on the reason she looked so distraught.

“Thomas, hey, if you’re so troubled about this, why don’t you talk to them? You shouldn’t have to feel this jealous about a relationship you’re in.” She reached out and rubbed her thumb tenderly along the contour of his cheekbone. “Just talk to them, okay?” She gave him a sweet, motherly smile. “That’s all. Just talk to them. No more hiding. Alright?”

He let out a shaky breath and smiled weakly. “Thanks Teresa.” It was easier said than done.

 

He walked her back to the two-bedroom dorms and watched her go. He lamented not having any classes with Teresa. They barely saw each other as it was, at least if they had one class together, he would have had that to look forward to. With the rest of the day on his own, Thomas turned, wondering what he was going to do until Minho’s or Newt’s arrival later in the afternoon. Saturday practice tended to last longer than usual for Minho, so Thomas didn’t expect to see the boy any time soon. As for Newt, he wasn’t sure where the boy was or if he really wanted to know.

(Maybe they were together again and left Thomas to sleep in late just for a few hours of alone time. They had a lovely habit of doing that.)

He was halfway down the hall, scowling at the dark turn of his thoughts, when he rammed hard into another person. Books, papers, and pens dropped to the floor with a loud bang. Thomas was on his knees before the other person could get their bearings and gathered their scattered papers.

“I’m so sorry,” He said, glancing upward. “I was—”

“Being a slinthead.” It was Gally. He stood there, tall and proud, with his face screwed up in a disapproving frown. Thomas snapped his mouth shut, his mood souring further.

Gally crouched to grab his books.

“Thanks,” He grunted, taking his notebook from Thomas. “How about you watch where you’re going next time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas muttered.

The taller boy narrowed his eyes. He snatched his pen away from Thomas, gave the boy a glare and was off without a word, shoulders tense. Thomas rubbed his temples in agitation. He could already feel the migraine coming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the typos.

He needed to tell them, sooner rather than later, but what could he say to them? How to approach the subject? He was uncomfortable with talking about himself so personally, even with his boyfriends.

The migraine intensified with every step he took. He rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to assuage the pain. He was halfway back to the dorm when someone called his name.

Janson stood by the doorway of his classroom, eyes expectantly on Thomas. The brunet sagged. Of all the days to see the Lit Professor, it had to be on a day he was meant to be off.

“Thomas, glad I could catch you. If you would be so kind as to spare a few minutes of your time?”

“Actually I—”

“It’s about your roommates.” He added nonchalantly.

Thomas felt his heart stutter. 

He followed Janson into the empty classroom, the doors clicking shut behind him.

“It’s come to my attention that your studies have been… subpar.”

Thomas tensed, the migraine pulsing like a jack hammer in his head.

“I’ve gotten high grades in all your assignments, Professor.”

Janson scrolled to his desk, his movements slow and methodical. He dug into his suitcase and pulled out a pile of papers. He splayed them across the desk for Thomas to see, each assignment obnoxiously lengthy and stained with red ink. The papers bore his name on the upper right corner, his high grade written in the same bloody red ink despite the various commentaries and corrections littering the cover pages.

“I’ve had the pleasure of teaching you for two semesters now, Thomas. Your earlier works were impeccable.” Janson licked his lips, blue eyes steady on the boy. “Yes, you have received the highest grade out of all my students, but your classmates are… shall we say… dumber than dirt.” He shrugged, like insulting his students meant nothing to him. Thomas wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t. “Unfortunately, this also stems to your roommates.”

He tossed a series of packets onto the table, all of them ruined by his notorious red ink. They were worse off than Thomas’. Minho and Newt’s name stared back at him from the sheets, their grades just as glaringly bright. He knew they tried hard in his class, but Rat Man’s assignments were cruel and unfair to anyone who didn’t have a knack for English.

The rush of anger came so unexpectedly, Thomas fell into a chair to keep him from growing dizzy. He rubbed his palms against his tired eyes, his migraine momentarily blinding him.

“Okay,” He breathed. His muscles began to tremble. “What are you proposing Professor?”

“Your living arrangements concern me, Thomas. You’ve become… unwell since the semester started and then there are all these rumors…”

“Rumors?” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“It’s of no concern what your roommates do on their free time, but when my star pupil begins to hand in horrendous work, one has to wonder.” Janson’s blue eyes bore deep into Thomas. “Thomas, I understand college is stressful, especially for a prestigious school such as WCKD U., but if you continue to let carnal desires hinder you from work, I’ll have no choice but to request a change of rooms with the head of housing.”

Thomas bolted from his chair fast as lightning; his hands slammed down hard on the table, the loud bang reverberating off the walls.

“You can’t do that!” He hissed through gritted teeth. “I have the highest grade in all of my classes. I’ve done nothing but pass everything you’ve given me with flying colors! Minho and Newt don’t hinder me in anyway, professor, in fact I think I’m a lot better off living with them than last semester. What I do with my boyfriends is no one’s business but mine!”

Jansons’s eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Boyfriends?”

Thomas straightened, horrified. He hadn’t meant to admit that in front of Janson. His heart quickened as anxiety pooled uncomfortably into his chest. The migraine from before pulsed in vengeance.

He took a deep, shaky breath. 

“What I do outside your classroom is none of your business. Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do with my Saturday.”

He hurried out the door without a glance back.

 

The anxiety clawed at his insides as he walked, his migraine unbearable. He threw up into a bush the moment he escaped the building and hung over the rail to regain his senses. He tried reaching Newt and Minho, but neither one of seemed inclined on answering their phones. 

It made his heart ache.

He didn’t know where they were or remember any of their plans for today. The thought of them out together pushed into his mind once or twice.

Bitterness curled his stomach.

He pictured them out for a stroll, the colorful leaves falling around them. He pictured Newt leaning onto Minho, their hands intertwined, smiles on their faces. Their phones would ring, Newt’s first then Minho’s, but neither of them would reach out to answer because they knew who it was on the other line.

He was being ridiculous and he needed to stop.

He made the long journey back to the dorms, sick to his stomach and sweaty from fever. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pretend the day had never existed. He wanted to forget about his troubles, his talk with Janson and Teresa’s advice.

He just wanted to sleep.

The room was ablaze with light, the TV unbearably loud. Thomas grimaced from the sensory overload. The trickle of nausea returned to his throw, his stomach already churning.

Minho’s bright face didn’t do anything to alleviate the sickness.

“Hey shank! Welcome home.”

He and Newt were cuddling on Newt’s bed, wrapped in a throw blanket for warmth and the TV flickering with lights from a movie. The volume had been turned down now that Thomas was home.  
The thought of where they were crossed his mind again.

“Where’ve you been? We wanted to take you somewhere special today.”

“I called.” He answered monotonously. He stripped off his sweatshirt and crawled into his bunk, grateful for the shade.

He missed the quiet exchange between his boyfriends.

“Tommy—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So you’re gonna sulk on your bed like a little kid?” Minho scowled, the distaste evident in his tone.

Thomas felt the rage a lit inside him again, the pulsing of his migraine intensifying. He whirled on them, the room spinning. He sent them a scathing glare despite feeling like he could keel over at any second.

“You’re starting shit with me?? ME?? After I tried to call and you both ignored me?! Really Minho? What was so important no one could get back to me?!”

“My phone wasn’t charged you slinthead.” Minho snapped. He gestured to the black phone on the desk, its screen devoid of lights. “And Newt was trying to get his work done. We didn’t hear the phone, sorry. Sheesh. What’s the big deal?”

Thomas wanted to throw something at him – his phone being the closest thing within reach – but the admission that Minho was with Newt had knocked the anger from his mind. Instead, he wilted like a flower devoid of water, the sickness weighing him down. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

He fell back into the mattress and curled onto his side, his muscles heavy and oddly lethargic.

He expected to hear the TV return or the hushed conversations of Minho and Newt talking about him and his childish jealousy. What he got instead was the sound of movement and felt his mattress dip with the weight of another. Minho’s arms wrapped around him. His body molded against Thomas like a missing piece to a puzzle and planted a soft kiss against the clammy skin on the boy’s neck.

More movement told Thomas Newt had joined them on the bed, the three of them now squeezed onto the bottom bunk.

“You’re sick.” Minho murmured against his skin. “I’m sorry. I should’ve seen that.”

“It’s just a migraine.”

“Get some rest then,” Newt suggested from behind Minho, his voice gentle. “We could all use a nap.”

Minho pulled Thomas into him, burying his nose into the boy’s hair. 

Thomas drifted to sleep before either of them, lulled into a dreamless slumber by Minho’s soft breathing and his warmth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited, I'll upload an edited copy at some point next week. Mind the typos.
> 
> More miscommunication and brash commentary from the boys in this uvu but don't fret, it gets better.

His muscles wouldn’t stop trembling. The perpetual sickness in his stomach kept Thomas from enjoying breakfast with his lovers. It wasn’t usual they spent Sunday morning like this. They had far too much to do, with homework and exams, yet Minho and Newt didn’t seem at all bothered by the work load. In fact, they seemed relaxed, almost happy to be able to eat breakfast like this.

Thomas felt envious. He really wanted to enjoy his bacon and eggs too.

Newt nudged him gently. “You okay? You haven’t eaten anythin’.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“In that case—yoink!” Minho grabbed Thomas’ plate and dug his fork into the eggs. “No sense in wasting perfectly good food.”

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been really out of it since yesterday.” Newt frowned. “Does this have anything to do with Friday?”

Thomas felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He twisted a napkin between his fingers and tried his best to ignore the way his hands trembled harshly or Newt’s searching gaze. He licked his cracked lips.

“If… you guys aren’t busy… can we… can we have sex today?”

He kept his eyes on the mutilated napkin, picking it apart in nervous energy. He knew he was avoiding the subject, but the thought of bringing it up again; Teresa’s advice and Janson’s conversation, made his brain hurt. He chanced a glance at the both of them and felt embarrassed at their surprised gaze.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“I… I wanna be top this time.”

Minho’s abrupt laughter was like a punch in the gut. He tried to keep the hurt from his expression, but wasn’t sure if it was a success.

Newt gave the athlete a lethal glare.

“My bad, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just think it’s cute.” He shrugged. He store a piece of bacon with teeth. “I mean, it’s great you wanna pleasure us like that too, but you can’t really hold a hard on, Thomas.”

Thomas’ muscles ached with tension. He tried to keep his face devoid of emotion, but the anxiety and hurt bubbled beneath his mask of indifference. It was impossible to keep his hands from shaking.

“Newt never complained.” He mumbled. He felt exhausted again, like the entire ordeal was draining his energy. 

Newt’s warm hand shrouded his own, long fingers gripping his tightly. The contact eased his anxiety, but not the ache in his chest. 

“That’s because I’m usually there to keep you hard.”

If the world could open up and swallow him whole right about now, Thomas wouldn’t have minded. Minho’s words pierced through him like knives. And from the looks of it, Newt noticed.

“That’s enough, Minho.” Newt snapped, his expression hard. “If Tommy wants to top then he tops.”

“He can top you maybe.” Minho shrugged. “But he’s not doing me. I’ll get bored.”

Newt’s grip on Thomas’ hand was so tight the circulation was lost. The rest of his body burned hotly in embarrassment and shame. The migraine was back with vengeance.

“I’m sorry?” Newt hissed dangerously. “You’ll get bored?!”

Minho’s brows furrowed, guilt flashing in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell us what you did mean, Minho. Please clarify for your sake.”

“Look, if Thomas wants to take initiation during sex then I’m all for it, but face the facts, he has trouble. He needs pain to get off and, sorry for saying it, but whatever method you’re using on him isn’t always fool proof, Newt. If Thomas wants to top me, you’re gonna have to hurt him to keep him going.”

Newt’s mouth flew open in retaliation but Thomas rose to his feet, silencing them both.

“Okay,” He breathed, voice quiet. “Sorry I asked. Fuck me whichever way you want to.”

“No.” They answered in unison. Minho and Newt exchanged identical expressions of surprise. Thomas would have found it funny if the whole conversation hadn’t made him feel like the worst person in the world.

He frowned, hurt and confused by their refusal. But more importantly, he was tired. If they had sex or not, he planned on sleeping for eternity.

“So none of you want to?”

“No.” Minho clarified. “Thomas, look at yourself. You’re tired, stressed and you’re probably getting sick again. What you need is rest, not sex.”

He set down a couple of bills for their breakfast and grabbed his jacket from the bench. "Come on, we’re taking you home so you can rest. When you start to feel better again, we’ll talk about you topping me, okay?”

Newt helped Thomas into his sweater just as Minho collected their trash. Newt led him to the doors, hands still connected and dragged him along into the chill autumn morning. Minho wrapped a careful arm around his waist and together, they returned to the dorm they called home.

 

Thomas slept through his classes that Monday. He ignored his boyfriends’ inquiries of his whereabouts and drifted in and out of sleep. He was still in bed when Newt returned and remained so when Minho came back soon after. He ignored their cajoling for food, registered their pleased to get him up and moving. He only moved to expel his body fluids, and despite Newt’s hopeful expression, he collapsed in bed soon after.

They spooned him from all sides that night; Newt flushed tight behind him while Minho held him to his chest. It was easier to sleep in their embrace. His dreams were a lot more pleasant as well.

They stayed with him on Tuesday.

When it became apparent Thomas didn’t plan on moving for anything, Minho and Newt decided class was just not that important.

Newt refused to let him sleep the day away, however, so he pulled out their literature book and read to him their assigned stories while Minho dug around the kitchenette for something to feed the boy.

“I don’t like Edgar Allan Poe,” Minho grumbled once Newt had finished their latest assignment. “His work is so damn depressing.”

“That is what he’s famous for.” Thomas quipped.

Newt chuckled. He brushed aside the boy’s bangs, his fingers surprisingly cold against Thomas’ skin. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Good that,” Minho returned to the bed, a bowl of chips in hand. “’Cuz a depressed Thomas is almost as bad as Poe’s stories.” He held out the bowl to Thomas and couldn’t keep the elation from his face when Thomas grabbed a handful of chips.

Newt gave up an exaggerated sigh. “The first time you’re eating in two days and it’s something grossly unhealthy.” He ran his fingers through Thomas’ hair again, his touch tender and lingering. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me unconditionally?”

“I already do.”

Minho gagged. “You two make me sick! So gross. Get a room!”

Thomas grinned. “Love you too, Min.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the athlete chuckled. “Love you shanks too.”

Teresa’s advice suddenly filtered into his mind again, sobering his mood.

“Can… can we talk?” He asked hesitantly.

“Anything Tommy.”

Thomas bit his lip, tearing up a thin layer of skin. He ignored their grimace and pushed on. “I… get jealous… with the way you two act around each other.” His tongue ran over the fresh layer of skin nervously. “Sex feels like a chore for you guys and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do any favors for me. Even if I don’t cum o-or I can’t get hard, I’m-I’m happy just being close to you both. If we could… take it slow or cuddle… I’ll be really happy.” He glanced up at them, surprised by the emotion on their faces. 

Minho heaved a heavy sigh, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Sorry too. Sorry I’ve been a selfish shank lately. “Especially for Sunday. I didn’t mean to go off like I did, I was just… I was just being a slinthead. Thomas, if you ever wanna top any of us, it’s perfectly welcomed.”

“And if you want to cuddle, that’s fine too.” Newt added. “We’re sorry for not telling you about our experiment or that we had any right to do that in the first place. Your body is your body. We shouldn’ have done it and we’re gits for thinkin’ it.”

“But you figured out what was wrong with me—”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” The blond snapped. He smiled in apology. “You’re perfect the way you are. You like pain and you need it to orgasm, that doesn’t mean there’s somethin’ wrong with you.”

“What’s wrong,” Newt continue, giving them both a meaningful look. “Is us neglecting your aftercare.”

Minho had the audacity to look sheepish despite Thomas’ confusion.

“Trust us Thomas, once Newt and I figure out what exactly we have to do with the aftercare stuff, we’re gonna make you feel so good, you won’t remember that we’re all a bunch of bumbling shanks.”

Thomas burst into laughter despite the heat of embarrassment. He pulled them both into a tight hug and kissed them tenderly on the head. 

“Thank you.” He sniffed, surprised by the swelling of emotion in his throat. “I really love you guys.”

“We love you too Thomas, but please do us all a favor and take a damn shower!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the first half is smut so skip it if you rather not read it.
> 
> I didn't plan on ever writing explicit smut for this but it kind of just happened? I did have plans for one scene being more plot relevant though.

The shower had been a waste in Thomas’ opinion. He returned to the dorm after a fifteen minute shower, only to be greeted by the sight of Minho, stark naked and sprawled languidly on Newt’s bed, his length hard and dripping from the strokes he made leisurely. Newt stood off to the side, seemingly unaffected by Minho’s nudity or by what the athlete was doing. It took a bit of cajoling, but Thomas joined him on Newt’s bed, excited yet anxious. 

Taking Minho for the first time was about as exciting as their first threesome. He felt proud for making the athlete writhe and moan the way he did, but his elation and ecstasy grew marred with the realization he would not reach completion. He’d been resigned to his acceptance. As long as Minho felt fulfilled, Thomas didn’t mind. That is, until Newt, who’d done nothing but stroke his own erection as he watched, finally pressed a slick finger into his entrance. 

(When had he moved? Thomas could have sworn he was still sitting on the bottom bunk.)

The room was filled with the chorus of their grunts and moans. Minho twisted into the sheets, gasping and groaning in ways Thomas never heard him do; his length dripping with strings of pre-cum. His muscles constricted around Thomas’ dick, pulling him deeper into the athlete while Newt’s own meaty length pierced into him with loud, erotic squelches. 

Thomas found it hard to breathe.

Newt’s thrusts were powerful; the way he rocked his hips gave him enough leverage to strike hard into the brunet’s prostate. He pushed deep into the younger boy, the force of his strength echoing down to Minho, who cried out embarrassingly high at a sharp strike to a deliciously sore sweet spot.

“Oh shit! Oh shuck me, do that again!” he gasped, clutching the sheets tight; his thighs trembling. “Thomas, I’m so close--!”

Thomas rocked hard against him, relishing the breathy, mewling noises of Minho’s pleading and the breathless chuckle Newt did in response to the high keening noises of their beloved Track Star. Minho’s tight warmth constricting all around him and Newt’s thick length hammering into him made Thomas’ nerves scream in pleasure. He felt like his whole body was on fire; his senses on overload. He wanted to stop, to relish the closeness of both his lovers and to hang onto the burning heat pooling into the pit of his stomach, but Minho continued to suck him in with Newt pushing along the way.

He felt Newt’s hands find their way to his hips again, the digits still slick from lube and sweat. Sometimes, the blond would hold him tight and ram the hardest he possibly could into Thomas; other times, those long, slender fingers would wander across his skin, pinching his nipples or leaving red, angry marks across his pale, mole speckled backside. Sometimes, those fingers would find their way into his hair. Newt would pull him back for a kiss or leave love bites on his skin; other times, it was Minho, pulling him close, biting his flesh whenever Newt couldn’t.

Whatever they did, they always found a way to keep Thomas in a haze of ecstasy – and he was grateful for it. 

Loved them dearly because of it.

Now, with Minho’s face partially buried into a pillow to muffle his screams and Thomas barely holding on to his sanity, there wasn’t much touching on either of their parts.

Minho’s orgasm exploded onto the sheets without warning, the older boy’s voice a strangled cry as his breath was squeezed from his lungs. Thomas barely had any time to process what had happened when Newt gripped onto his hips again and pummeled into his prostrate like a jack hammer. He shrieked, his vision going white as his climax slammed into him like a freight train. Newt milked the rest of his cum onto Minho’s stomach, his palm growing slick from the ringlets of spunk that poured out of the younger boy in what seemed like a never ending stream.

Newt came into him barely a second afterwards with a heavy grunt. He pumped the rest of his seed into Thomas, his thrusts in tune to stroking Thomas’ length. 

Thomas collapsed on top of Minho afterwards, exhausted and sticky; his body sore and breathless. Newt remained buried inside him, the feeling weird now that the heat was passing, yet the fullness was enough to keep him from complaining. (If only Newt hadn’t disconnected him from Minho, they would have all been tethered together by him.)

Minho draped his arms lazily around Thomas, peppering his abused neck with tender, feather light kisses.

“Fuck. I love you shanks.” He breathed. He reached out blindly for Newt and found the boy’s sweaty hand. He held him tightly, their fingers interlacing. “That… was amazing.”

“Y-yeah…” Thomas sighed. “But this part is great too.”

“Bloody hell,” Newt murmured distractedly.

Both boys tensed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to wear a condom.” Newt grumbled. “Fuck.”

Thomas and Minho couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Thomas was on cloud nine. His body was still sore from their earlier shenanigans, but the sickness he’d been feeling the last few days seemed to dissipate like smoke. He had never felt so happy.

He was tempted to text Teresa about his successful conversation with his boyfriends but thought better of it. As close as they used to be as children, Thomas didn’t feel comfortable sharing his personal business. It’d been uncomfortable enough the first time talking to her about his relationship, he didn’t want to have to go through the experience again with something more intimate.

He was on his way down the hall to collect a few snacks from the cafeteria when he collided painfully into another body. He already knew who it was before his eyes fell on the boy in question.

“Gally please, we have to stop meeting like this.” He grinned.

Gally scowled in displeasure. He brushed the front of his clothes as though Thomas’ collision left a sizable stain on his shirt and crossed his arms in an attempt at intimidation. He was a tall boy and rather burly; he had the physique to try out for the football team, but Gally didn’t bother with sports. Instead, he used his frame to intimidate his inferiors, but Thomas didn’t fear him. He never would.

“Watch where you’re going shank, is that so hard to do?” He was met with a snicker. Gally’s hard gaze turned inquisitive. He zeroed in on Thomas’ neck, his eyebrows arching into his hairline. 

Thomas felt his heart quicken.

“Nice hickey greenie. ‘S’plains the good mood. Got laid, eh?”

Thomas’ flesh colored hotly. He slapped a hand to the bruise and cursed out Minho and Newt under his breath. Gally’s eyes narrowed again.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors lately about you and your roommates.”

“What are we in elementary? You should know better than to believe in rumors, Gally.”

The dark haired boy clicked his tongue. “I get we’re not friends. I hate you, you hate me, but I respect your work ethic. You’re always trying to get the best of me and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun. But all this crazy klunk rumors about you three shanks is concerning.”

Thomas failed to keep the surprise off his face, but Gally barreled on, uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Believe me, whatever you three slint-heads do on your own time is your business, but when you walk around flaunting your cuts and bruises like a dumbass shank that you are, I have to intervene.”

Thomas opened his mouth to retort but Gally raised a hand to stop him.

“I don’t care what your excuses are, Thomas. You three shanks are getting involved in a lifestyle you clearly know nothing about. What’s more disappointing is Newt allowing it. I thought he’d be smart enough to know better.”

Thomas was stunned. He didn’t know what was weirder, Gally actually being concerned about his well being or Gally knowing what he and his boyfriends were doing. He gawked at the boy, mouth stupidly open and eyes wide. Gally snorted then punched his shoulder.

“OW SHIT GALLY WHAT THE HELL?”

“Stop gawking at me like a moron, shank!” He spat, cheeks tinged pink.

Thomas couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or rage. “That’s the last time I talk to you like a civilized human. See you at the exams, shank. Hope ya bomb.”

He shoved past him, stalking down the hall with a huff.

“Keep dreaming Gally!” Thomas called, flipping him off despite knowing the boy couldn’t see. 

He frowned. Great, who else knew about him, Minho and Newt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story where I've ever shared anything explicit of any kind. Feed back would be much appreciated, but keep in mind that writing threesomes are difficult so I THINK I did an okay job with keeping track of who's doing what. 
> 
> On a semi-related note, I'm trying my hand at writing commissions! Click the info to see what it's all about :D
> 
> [Writing Commission](http://janrielworks.tumblr.com/commission)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited as of December 10th
> 
> Sorry for the slow development. This story doesn't actually have a plot so I'm trying to figure out when would be a good cut off period since Thomas is slowly resolving his number of issues.

Gally kept the knowledge of their relationship to himself, much to Thomas' surprise. His rival seemed more inclined to study for the exams than make fun of Thomas and his kinks, but even so, the brunet kept his guard up whenever Gally was around. One could never be too careful, especially now that Janson knew about his business as well.

Janson's assignments were a nightmare. It was like the man was avidly trying to punish Thomas by making the rest of his students suffer. Thomas watched achingly as Newt chewed on the end of his pen in distress. Minho's constant shuffling and sighing were a heavy distraction within the silent, tensed atmosphere. Minho fidgeted in his chair; Newt ran his fingers through his hair periodically.

Thomas tried to keep his hands from trembling in rage.

The scratch scratching of pens scraping against paper filled the room.

Thomas forced himself to focus on the exam, but his boyfriends' distress occupied his mind like a heavy weight on his shoulders. He was two questions away from finishing; two easy peasy questions about assignments he had aced with flying colors. The entirety of the exam had been nothing but cake walk, and yet… Minho and Newt's constant fidgeting and scraping had told him the test hadn't been easy for everyone. If they failed because of him…

Come on, focus Thomas. You can do this. Don't you dare give Rat Man the satisfaction.

A sneeze tore through the blanket silence of the classroom. Thomas jumped in his chair, his knee knocking hard against the desk painfully. A harsh black line cut through his essay paper like a knife, the indentation deep, but luckily not too damaging. (He would have hated to start all over because of it.)

All eyes turned to the culprit. Thomas felt his chest tighten in embarrassment.

Minho cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly tinged pink. He continued with his work, but Janson's blue eyes narrowed with thinly veiled disgust.

"Mr. Lee, if you dare disrupt my classroom again, I will have no choice but to fail you and expel you from the remainder of the semester."

Minho kept his eyes on the exam, though Thomas could see the rage in his eyes.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir. If I happen to sneeze again, I'll make sure to do it as quietly as possible."

Thomas tried to suppress his groan.

Newt ducked further into his chair, his blond hair shadowing his eyes, though the grip on his pen was enough indication for Thomas. The boy was just as annoyed as him.

Janson's lip twitched. "Yes Mr. Lee, please do so. And do take care of that sass. Your grade is in my hands after all."

Gally rose to his feet during the exchange and handed his packet to Janson. Thomas ducked in avoidance. He still had one more question to go.

"Ugh, that fucking shank!" Minho kicked open their dorm door and angrily tossed his bag to the side. He collapsed onto Newt's bed with an angry exhale.

"He's being a wanker," Newt grumbled, the worry lines on his forehead prominent. "Threatening to fail you for sneezing? What kind of bloody nonsense is that? What an arse!"

"What's with him lately? It's like he's trying to get us!"

Thomas locked the door quietly, the encounter with Janson replaying in his mind. "He might be," He commented quietly.

Newt and Minho turned to him with matching frowns.

"He spoke with me a few days ago." He admitted reluctantly. "He was worried about my grades. He thinks because we're roommates, my grades are going to fall."

"That's bloody ridiculous! You have the highest score there."

"He, uh, he also knows we're dating."

Minho shot up from the bed like a rocket. "What?! How?"

Thomas bit his lower lip. "I might have admitted it…"

"Oh my shuckin' god," Minho groaned. He fell back into the mattress with a heavy plop.

Newt rubbed his temples.

"That explains why he's been really harsh." Newt sighed. He sat on Thomas' bed, leaning his forehead against the wooden frame. "We'll just have to try harder in his class then. Don't give him a reason to fail us."

Minho scoffed. "He doesn't need a reason. He can just do it, the shank."

"He'll need one if he doesn't want the Dean on him."

"I'm absolutely shit in his class Newt. What do you expect me to do?"

"I can help you."

Minho glanced up at Thomas in uncertainty. He scowled, unhappy with the idea of studying. "Fine." He relented a few seconds later. "I'll tell the coach to lay off on the practice. He won't be happy though."

"He'd be worse if you failed English." Thomas quipped.

Minho sighed in defeat. It wouldn't do for him to lose his scholarship over this. Thomas knew Minho had no other choice but to study hard to keep afloat in English.

"I'm looking forward to getting these midterms over and done with." The athlete grumbled. "I just want to relax with you guys and play games. Maybe go out to dinner." He shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever strikes my fancy."

Newt leaned further back into Thomas' bed, a lazy smile on his face. "Yeah, Min. Me too."

"We're almost there guys. Just a few more days to go."

They groaned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. Sorry for the delay. I wanted to finish the whole story before I started uploading new chapters :D
> 
> On an unrelated note, I'm available for [commissions](http://janrielworks.tumblr.com/commission) if anyone is interested in my writing. :)

“It sounds annoyingly complicated.” Minho commented that cold afternoon.

Gally gave the track star his most deadened expression.

Thomas found himself in one of the most awkward situations of his life. What was meant to be a quick lunch with his boyfriends turned into a gathering of friends. 

Teresa and Aris sat idly near the end of the table, sharing a large pile of onion rings while Rachel and Sonya giggled among themselves over a joke Thomas missed. Alby had joined them soon after, Harriet on his heels and now Gally, who had sat down on their table without permission. It irked Minho, but after Gally’s talk the other day, Thomas would’ve felt rude sending the boy away.

Somehow, within the twenty minutes it took for them to settle down, the topic of their sex lives reared its ugly head. Thomas resisted the urge to bury his face behind his food, his cheeks hot like fire and as red as apples.

“There’s nothing complicated ‘bout it, just pure laziness.” Gally continued with a heavy eye roll. “Aftercare is one of the most important things in an S and M relationship. What better way to show your partner you care than by helping clean up the mess you made?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho drawled. “We get it, guru. We’ve been keeping up with it. Calm your klunk behind.”

Gally screwed up his freckled face in disgust. “I’m not jokin’ Minho. Thomas could’ve gotten seriously injured ‘cuz you shanks don’t shuckin’ know how to care for him. And you!” He whirled on Newt with a pointed finger, surprising the blond from his reverie. “What the hell were you thinkin’ leaving Minho in charge of klunk like this? The slinthead doesn’t know head or tails ‘bout shit like this. I’m really disappointed. You should know better.”

Newt struggled for words, rattled by the unexpected confrontation while Minho bristled at Gally’s accusations. 

Thomas laughed. “Wow Gally, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“You guys think I’m playing around, but shit like this is serious. This isn’t a phase, this is a lifestyle. I couldn’t let you shanks go on like a bunch of morons, hurting each other and ruining something good.” He dug into his pineapple cup, fishing out the pieces aggressively. “Listen, if you’re interested, I’ve got a lot of books on the subject and a website that’ll help. I can give it to you shanks if it means you’ll be safe in your hanky panky.”

Harriet suddenly laughed. “Hanky panky? Good God Gally!”

He blushed. “Shut up!”

The group divulged into nonsensical chatter after that. Thomas stubbornly tried to maintain his nonchalance in the face of the girls’ teasing. Minho took great pleasure in humiliating the boy further, still irritated with Gally’s earlier outburst.

Thomas hung back, watching them all. Something pleasantly warm filled his chest, chasing out the bitter air of a cold winter afternoon and pulled a smile onto his chapped, dry lips. 

He was really going to miss these guys during winter break.

* * *

“Oh Thomas, if you please?”

Thomas tensed at Janson’s call, his heart suddenly racing. He gave his boyfriends a pleading look before reluctantly leaving them in the hall. Newt whipped out his cell phone before Janson closed the door behind him. (Thomas already felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, Newt’s message somewhat comforting despite not knowing what he sent.)

“Take a seat Thomas, we have things to discuss.”

He collapsed into the nearest chair and spooled his expression into careful nonchalance. Janson dropped a packet onto the desk with a smug smirk.

“Congratulations Thomas, you passed your midterms with a perfect score.”

“Th-thank you professor.”

“No, thank you for applying yourself, but there are some discrepancies.” Janson dropped two more packets onto his desk. Thomas didn’t need to read it to know those were Newt’s and Minho’s cores. Their exams were marred with red ink, Janson’s atrociously neat words printed heavily against every possible white surface. His commentaries were small, practically pinpricks compared to his boyfriends’ writing. He couldn’t make out what Janson had said to either of them, the words too straining for him to read. Thomas couldn’t contain the grimace.

“Thomas, it does my heart ill to see my students fail, but I have already issued warnings to both your roommates about their failure in my class.”

“What?”

“Did they not tell you? Tsk.” Janson sighed, shaking his head. “I offered them a solution but they both refused. Now, as a last resort, I’m offering you the opportunity to save your—ahem—roommates from losing their scholarships.”

Thomas tensed again. He licked his lips, wincing at the scrape of his dry tongue.

“W-what is it?”

His professor smiled amiably.

“Next semester, I will be in charge of a new program that will honor as well as provide challenges for our best students. You’ve shown unparalleled excellence in my classes, Thomas, I want you to participate in the program.” He sat partially on Thomas’ desk, hands folded on his lap, blue eyes gazing down at him. “It’ll require a lot of study time so you may have to sacrifice your social life, but it is all for a good cause, Thomas. Trust me.”

Thomas’ leg bounced, his body humming with energy. He kept his attention focused on the packets, Minho’s midterm score a shiny beacon against the sea of white and red. 

He bit his lip.

“What do you say Thomas? Will you join me on behalf of your roommates?”

He stopped bobbing his leg. He turned to Janson, expression devoid of emotion.

“Can I think about it?”

Janson chuckled. “Of course Thomas, but I need an answer before the semester ends. Otherwise, I will take the matter into my hands.”

He slid off the desk, gathered the papers then bid Thomas farewell. 

Thomas heart didn’t slow down until he was in the dorm and away from that monstrosity of a professor.

* * *

“How’d it go?”

Thomas let the door slam shut behind him, his chest heaving in a way that had nothing to do with the walk home.

“You’re both failing English.”

“What?”

Minho was sitting upright in bed, disbelief etched into his eyes. But it was Newt who had spoken and it was Newt who cursed thickly at Janson and ran long fingers into his blond locks.

“He shouldn’t be discussing our exams with you, Tommy. It’s not right.”

“Fuck that!” Minho hissed, dark eyes blazing. “What did he ask you in return for “saving” our grades, Thomas? There’s no way Rat Man told you that for any reason but as incentive.”

“He didn’t ask for anything—”

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to us, Thomas! What did he want?” He demanded, his knuckles pale from gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly.

Thomas slumped against the door, suddenly exhausted.

“He wants me to sign up for this program next semester in exchange for saving your scholarships.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Minho fell back onto Newt’s bed with an exasperated sigh. He buried his face behind his hands, trying to calm himself before he bolted out of the room and punched their professor in the face.

Newt massaged his aching temples, the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Did you tell him anything?” Newt asked after a moment of silence. 

Thomas shrugged.

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“You’re not doing it.” Minho said. “I don’t care if he fails us, I’m not letting you do it. This creep’s been after you the moment you enrolled in this place. We’re not putting you through this, Thomas.”

“Minho, you’re going to fail—”

“I don’t give a klunk ‘bout that, Thoams!” He screamed, startling them with his intensity. “I only came here because Newt got accepted. If dropping out to save you from Rat Man’s clutches is how things are gonna be then fine by me.” He crossed his arms stubbornly, dead set on his decision.

Thomas looked to Newt, half expecting to see a look of horror on the blond’s face, but instead all he saw was contemplation.

“Newt—”

The boy turned to him, dark eyes unreadable. He rubbed his chin as an afterthought then sighed. 

“I’m with Minho on this, Tommy. Leaving might be in our best interest.”

Thomas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A part of him was touched by their protectiveness. The fact Newt was willing to give up his dream college to save Thomas from Janson’s clutches warmed his heart, and the idea of Minho dropping out for the same thing moved him, but he couldn’t let them sacrifice their futures because of him. No, he had a different plan in mind.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Newt and Minho opened their mouths, ready to retort, but Thomas held up his hand, stopping them in their tracks. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I can handle it. I can handle him.”

“Tommy—” Newt tried, sensing Thomas’ resolve.

“No, guys, please. Let me do this. You’re always helping me, let me do this for you.” Thomas pleaded. He had to make them believe he’d chosen to do the program, it was a better alternative than telling them the truth. “Besides, Janson likes me. He won’t rag on me nearly as much as he does to you guys. I can do this. Just have faith, okay?”

“Fine.” Minho grumbled. “But if shit hits the fan, we’re done. If you get sick or if he so much as breathes the wrong way, I’m punching him in the face and we’re dropping out.”

Thomas nodded, a small smile on his face. “Fine. Newt?”

Newt sighed. “I’m okay with it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Thomas beamed, the guilt already eating at him. “I’ll let him know the next time I see him.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. I'll come back to edit these chapters properly later.
> 
> Should also mention the next few chapters are going to be shorter than usual since my writer's block starting creeping up around this time. ;w; sorry.

Gally dropped off books at their dorm later that day. He went through each of them, explaining their specialties, marked off chapters he felt would help them the best then told them to return the books once they were well versed in the ways of aftercare. Thomas didn’t have the heart told tell him they wouldn’t need the books, especially since personal time for such activities would no longer be available, but Newt took the books the moment Gally brought them in.

“Thank you Gally. If I had known, I’d have come to you sooner.”

“Yeah well,” the younger male rubbed his neck modestly, taken aback by Newt’s genuine praise. He mumbled a response, punched Thomas on the arm for normalcy then hurried out of the dorm before Minho could retaliate.

Thomas rubbed his bicep, a small smile on his lips.

* * *

He made Newt and Minho take their studies seriously. Jason’s assignments were the same as ever; they were unnecessarily long, tedious and cruelly tricky. Thomas kept his promise in tutoring them. He helped out whenever they got stuck and checked over their homework three times before giving them the pass.

He kept an eye on Janson’s reactions when they turned in their assignments. Thomas tore the skin on his lower lip absentmindedly, watching their professor skim through Newt’s assignments with precision – no doubt on the search for anything amiss. Thomas allowed himself a fleeting moment of complacency. This assignment should be graded higher than Newt’s average. Thomas triple checked everything his boyfriend did, and yet, he couldn’t fight the irritation of knowing Janson would find absolutely anything to take points off. 

Janson didn’t say a word about the assignments throughout their class period. And as they packed up to go, he didn’t call them to stay behind. 

Thomas took that as a sign of victory.

He joined them in the hall, heaving a sigh of relief once they were far enough away from the classroom and their professor’s prying eyes.

“Did you see the look on that shanks face? He looked so impressed with Newt’s work like Newt doesn’t pour his heart and soul into everything Rat Man gives him.” Minho scoffed. “I bet he probably thinks we’re cheating off of Thomas! Because there’s “no way” Newt could possibly do well on homework on his own.” The runner rolled his eyes, his expression contorting into disgust.

Thomas gnawed at his bottom lip, ignoring the worried glance Newt sent his way. “I’m really sorry guys. If I hadn’t said anything about us dating – ”

“It’s not your fault Tommy.” Newt consoled, rubbing the younger male’s shoulder affectionately. “Rat Man’s being a git. His concern on what we do on our free time is unacceptable and an invasion of privacy.”

“And the dickest move in the history of assholedom.” Minho grumbled. “He’s a shucking shuck faced shucked shank.”

The duo chuckled.

“I have no idea what you just said Min, but it sounded hilarious.”

“Glad I can amuse you, Tommy.” He threw his arms around his boyfriends and gave them a smug grin. “We should celebrate our temporary victory with a date!”

“Minho,” Newt sighed, though the corners of his lips threatened to upturn into a smile.

Thomas shook his head.

“No way, we can’t fool around yet. This is only just the beginning, Min. We have to stay focused.”

The track star groaned in disappointment, the pout on his face adorable. He looked like a depressed puppy denied treats despite his good behavior.

Newt and Thomas could only laugh.

* * *

A weak into their streak of good grades, Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. Janson had yet to call either of them up or called them out for cheating. He hadn’t congratulated them for their turn around, but Thomas doubted the man would sink so low as to be an actual good person for once. It seemed like Janson didn’t plan on failing his boyfriends after all.

“The final will be an accumulative of everything you learned since the start of the semester,” Janson explained. He turned to his students, setting down the marker with an unnecessarily loud tap against his desk. “I want your term papers on my desk next Monday morning. All late assignments will be promptly tossed into the trash. If you even think about asking for an extension, I am here to tell you that you are wasting your time as well as mine. No late extensions will be given. I do not care if you are sick or dying or have other things to do – give me your term paper by Monday morning or fail my class. Those of you already in danger of failing my class, the final is your last chance. Do not beg for extra credit, you will not be given one. Study well children.”

Among the loud rustle of students scrambling to gather their things, Thomas caught Janon spare him a glance.

His heart froze.

“Thomas, Mr. Sangster, Lee, if you three would please stay behind?”

Shit. Thomas tensed. He stole a glance his boyfriends’ way, anxiety already bubbling in his stomach. Newt and Minho were barely composed, their own nerves and irritation fighting for dominance beneath their skin. 

They remained in their seats as their classmates trickled away. Minho watched them forlornly, even going so far as to jokingly grab Gally’s wrist to keep him from leaving, but the younger boy jerked away with a scowl. The track star snickered, his amusement short lived. Once Gally shut the door behind him, Janson gave the trio an amiable smile.

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, body relaxed. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle in a way that made Thomas feel as though Rat Man were enjoying their restless silence. 

Something dark coiled in the pit of Thomas’ chest.

“The improvement I saw in the last few days have been absolutely astounding. IJ must say, I am impressed.”

The trio tensed, each of them at the edge of their seats.

Janson reached across his desk for his bag. He dug out papers from the dark depths and tossed them carelessly to the first empty desk he could reach. Neither of them moved to inspect the sheets.

“But of course, I knew it was too good to be true.” He chuckled. “I know you boys are roommates – among other things – but I will have you know, bullying will not be tolerated in my classroom.”

Minho jerked to his feet, knuckles pale against his taunt skin.

“B-bullying?!” He gaped. “What kind of klunk nonsense you spewing professor?”

“Minho!” Newt hissed.

Janson’s lips stretched thin in displeasure.

“Mr. Lee, I will not tolerate such disrespect in my classroom.”

“With all due respect Professor Janson,” Newt began. “But are you implying that Minho and I are using Thomas to cheat for a high grade? Because the truth is, he’s been tutoring us, not cheating for us.”

“Mr. Sangster, you will not speak out of turn.”

Thomas rose to his feet, outrage boiling his blood. Newt moved to Minho’s side before the track stare could jump their despicable professor in a fit of blind rage.

“Professor, Newt is telling you the truth. I’ve been helping them with their homework. Everything they’ve handed in is 100% their work. All I’ve done is correct their mistakes.”

Janson watched him, cerulean eyes penetrating his very being. Thomas kept his expression cool despite his heart hammering against his chest. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to shrivel beneath the man’s hard gaze, but pride and rage kept his resolve firm. He refused to give Rat Man the satisfaction of superiority. 

The man gave a little hum before shrugging.

“I’m not sure if I believe you Thomas. You’re always trying to look out for them.”

Minho’s expression contorted into indignation, his hatred rolling off him in waves, but Newt held on. He kept him in place, his knuckles ghostly white against the older male’s bicep.

Thomas licked his lips. His teeth gnawed his bottom lip.

“Okay. Let’s—let’s make a deal I’ll sign up for your program next semester if you don’t report us for cheating. Newt and Minho will maintain their work ethic, I promise. Do we have a deal?”

“Almost. Next semester, you will request a form exchange to prevent any more distractions. Are we clear?”

“What?! You--!”

“Minho!” Newt hissed harshly, his face pinched.

Minho swallowed the rest of his curse, but he shot Janson a murderous look. What little respect hehad for the man – if any at all – went straight out the window.

Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Okay. Deal.”

Janson smiled genially. “Great. Then we’re done here. Thomas, please stop by my office tomorrow to receive the paperwork.” He turned on his heel, gathered his supplies and bid the boys a good day.

Minho kicked an empty desk in rage.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'll come back at a later time to properly edit my mistakes.

They were silent during their trek back to the dorm. Minho’s rage continued to simmer beneath his skin, the tension between them so thick, Thomas could cut it with a knife. Newt’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking underneath his skin like clockwork. Thomas watched them as they walked, the urge to comfort them, to say something just to make them laugh was strong, He wished everything would go back to the way they used to be, before either of them were swept up by love and desire. Life was simple then.

Minho felt like a ticking time bomb. Every step they took felt like they were drawing closer to the athlete’s explosion. Thomas didn’t want the boy to lose his cool and do something ridiculous on impulse, especially in public. (He didn’t want him to lose his cool in private either, but Minho couldn’t hold back his rage when he was so far off the edge already.)

Thomas was the last one to enter the dorm. He shut the door behind him, hearing the loud click of the lock sliding into place before he turned back to the others in trepidation. He was barely out of the hallway when Minho whirled on him, black eyes sharp and wet.

“Damn it Thomas! You don’t have to keep saving us whenever we’re in trouble with Rat Man! I already told you leaving this stupid school would be a godsend to me.”

“And have him ruin your record with cheating?” Thomas frowned, jaw clenching. “Minho, that’s a serious accusation! Janson would’ve done anything to keep you from going to school if you let him.”

“It would’ve been better than watching you agree to be his bitch!” He spat vehemently.

Thomas recoiled, horror-struck. His chest clenched in pain but rage washed over him in a wave. Newt was by Minho’s side in an instant, holding the boy back for the second time that day. But unlike in the classroom, Minho didn’t resist the blond’s touch. He stood rooted in place, dark eyes clouded with a torrent of emotion; guilt the strongest one there.

“We have to report him.” Newt suggested, his voice quiet as though he were worried about disturbing the uneasy peace between them. “What he’s doing is illegal.”

“We can tell the Dean.” Thomas suggested weakly.

“Yeah? And then what? He’s friends with the Dean you slintheads!” Minho dropped himself on top of Newt’s bed, looking as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Face it guys, Rat Man’s got us fucked. He has power over us. It doesn’t matter what we do, he can get rid of us with no problem and keep Thomas for himself.”

Newt joined him. He wrapped an arm around Minho’s shoulders and leaned into the boy for comfort. Thomas stood off to the side, feeling awkward and out of place, though he wasn’t sure why. He felt guilty for everything, like he was the worst piece of klunk to ever set foot in WCKD U. And he wondered, not for the first time nor the last, if things would have been better off had he remained back in their home town. He shouldn’t have followed his friends out here.

His chest constricted. His face felt warm.

He released a shaky breath, physically blowing out the anxiety running rampant in his body and fought the urge to join them on the bed. He wanted to comfort them; wanted to apologize for all the trouble he’d cause them thanks to his stupid slip of the tongue, but…

He didn’t.

He let them sit there in silence, too ashamed to do anything else.

* * *

Thomas woke up with a pounding behind his eyes that followed morning. His body yearned for him to go back to sleep as his night had been rough and plagued with nightmares, but Thomas had a mission to do today. He’d meant to do this a week ago, but the guilt of keeping his decision from his boyfriends kept him from going into the University’s enrollment office. Now that Janson waited for him to sign the appropriate paperwork, Thomas felt he had no choice but to go through with his decision.

He knew Newt and Minho wouldn’t appreciate it. They’d probably yell at him, call him slinthead or a shank. Hell, they might even disown him after this – at least he figured Minho would – but it was the only solution left on the table he knew for certain would work. 

After all, no one could make him stay once the semester was over. Not even Janson and all his useless threats.

He sat in the enrollment office, leg bobbing up and down as he watched the secretary type away on her computer. The room was silent save for the loud clatter of keyboard keys and his skin pimped from the freezing cold. He wished he brought a coat, his sweater was doing nothing to keep him warm.

He glanced down at the sheets in his lap, all filled out as neatly as he could with his boyfriends’ information for the next semester. The words “ROOM REGISTRATION/EXCHANGE” stared back at him in big, black letters. His leg bobbed faster.

It would only be for a semester. He’d come back in the fall once he was assigned to a new counselor and avoid Janson like the plague. His scholarships would still be there – he was sure they were renewable – but in the off chance he lost the opportunity he could easily replace it with another. His only regret was not telling his boyfriends. (And the idea of going back home alone for four months depressed him greatly.)

He waited in silence, gnawing the skin on his lip with his teeth. His leg bobbed erratically; his fingers tapping silently against the side of the chair. He was a nervous wreck. He half expected Janson to pop around the corner and whisk him away before any of the paperwork could get processed. It’d be hell to come back to the enrollment office again if Janson found out what he planned on doing. Dear God, he hated the man. 

He jumped a mile when his cell phone vibrated. One glance told him it was Newt inquiring of his whereabouts.

He didn’t respond.

At that moment, a woman opened the door to her office and gave Thomas a tender, polite smile.

“Thomas, hello. It’s good to see you again. Please come in.”

He heaved a heavy breath then followed her into the office.

* * *

_Hey so we’re going out to eat. Grab Min and I’ll meet you guys at the café down the street. My treat. Don’t fight me on this._

_What’s the occasion Tommy?_

_Just wanted to celebrate :)_

_Uh, okay, be there soon._

* * *

Thomas tapped his fingers against his phone, his leg bobbing up and down in nervous energy. He had already ordered food for his boyfriends’, aware of what they liked in this place. He hoped iot wasn’t too suspicious, dragging them out spontaneously and ordering their favorite meals.

He bit his tongue.

Fuck, it was so suspicious. It was unmistakable he’d done something wrong, he should have invited them out to the movies or something!

The guilt he’d been trying to stave off since this morning came back to him at full throttle. He felt like an absolute ass for going ahead with his choice, and it didn’t matter how many times he tried to convince himself that this was the only way, he knew he had done wrong. He didn’t tell them. He didn’t trust them enough to tell them he planned on withdrawing from school and was too much of a coward to tell them now.

He groaned, falling head first onto the table. He buried his hands into his hair, using his nails to scratch his scalp in a weak attempt at self-punishment. 

_I’m so fucked. I’m so fucked._

He pulled himself together before Newt and Minho spotted him. They joined him in their usual table at the same time the waitress brought their ordered meal. Minho peeled away his coat and scarf with the grace of an ecstatic child and slipped into the booth to claim his meal.

Newt slid into place beside him. He eyed the cheeseburger with a raised brow before glancing Thomas’ way, one brow quirked in an arch.

“You already ordered.”

Thomas smiled as innocently as he could. “Yeah, just thought I’d surprise you two. Because I love you.”

Thomas tried not to kick himself.

Newt’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“What’s the occasion Tommy?”

“None. Is it a crime to want to spoil my partners?”

“No, but it is suspicious considering what happened yesterday.”

Minho groaned obnoxiously. He elbowed the blond harshly and said, “Newt, just take it at face value. Tommy wants to spoil us, now let Tommy spoil us.” He turned to Thomas with a languorous grin. “Consider me spoiled.” 

Thomas beamed.

“Fine.” Newt sighed in defeat. He leaned back into booth, a smile stretching his lips. “I’ll let you spoil me today, but if there’s something wrong, I want you to tell us.”

“Okay,” Thomas chuckled lightly. His palms felt sweaty. “That’s fair.”

Newt dived into his meal without another word.

Thomas picked at his French fries, his stomach sour.

* * *

Minho met up with Newt for another night of strolling later that evening. Thomas’ had been true to his word and spoiled them rotten with dinner, desert and a quick movie at home until the poor boy fell into a fitful sleep before the movie’s end. They tucked him into bed then took off for a walk despite the bitter bite of winter nipping at their noses. They continued around the dorm pathways, Newt’s cold hand tucked into Minho’s pocket, both boys mulling over today’s events.

Newt heaved a heavy sigh, his breath bellowing out in a puff of mist; his cheeks and nose rosy red beneath the lamp lights.

“He did something stupid, didn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, big time.” Minho nodded. “So stupid that he needed to treat us to feel less guilty about it. I’m more surprised our night didn’t end in sex. I would have pinned him down until he confessed.”

“That’s probably why it wasn’t offered.”

“Smart kid.” Minho grinned.

Newt groaned. “I swear Minho, if the bloody idiot did what I think he did, I’m going to kill him.”

Minho’s jaw clenched, all humor from earlier drained from his face. 

“If he did it because of Janson, I’m going to punch that asshole right in the nose.”

“I won’t hold you back.”

Minho wrapped an arm around the blond’s bulky frame and pulled him closer than their linked hands could.

“Let’s hope Thomas isn’t that stupid.”

“He is, Min. He would and he probably already did.”

“Can you at least try to act optimistic here? Like, is that too hard to ask right now?” He grumbled.

Newt chuckled weakly. “I’m not the optimistic one in the relationship, Min.”

“Fine then I’ll do it. I have complete faith Thomas didn’t drop out of school or next semester because Rat Man is the world biggest asshole with the world’s biggest boner for our Tommy.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Yeah well, blind hope isn’t my thing either. C’mon, let’s go to sleep. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

They followed the path back to their housing complex, all thoughts of attending school without Thomas flooding their minds. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The side story [Done with the Sickness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4995394/chapters/12338732) takes place between the previous chapter and before this one. So if you get confused about the sickness Minho is talking about, it's that one.

It was rare for Minho to find time for himself. His schedule usually had him bouncing between morning practice, classes, more practice and then more classes. Whatever available time he had, he lent to Newt and Thomas or as of recent weeks, studying for finals. 

Janson’s latest stunt cycled through his mind, along with Thomas’ behavior. 

A few days since their dinner, Minho saw a change in the brunet’s demeanor. He stayed up late to help Newt with English and often times came to the dorm with dinner ready for them. He did their chores just so they wouldn’t have to break their studying and quizzed them for hours on everything they’d learn. He worried himself to sickness, a fact that truly irritated both Minho and Newt – because Thomas didn’t just catch a cold, he got _sick_ and he hid his sickness, and although he bounced back fairly quickly, Minho and Newt weren’t happy with having to take him to the ER just to get the boy to take some damn medication.

Newt had expressed his concerned, but Minho knew as intelligent as Thomas was, he was just as stubborn. The boy wasn’t going to explain his ways no matter how much Newt persisted.

Minho knew. He understood why Thomas kept his secret. He even understood the reason behind it, of course he wouldn’t want Newt to worry. Of course he wouldn’t want to burden Minho with his issues. Of course he’d do anything for their well-being – but Thomas was so stupid. He was so stubborn and impulsive, a shucking bloody genius hiding behind insecurities and chocolate doe eyes that screamed _love me forever and always._

Thomas was an idiot and Minho loved the damn shank to a million pieces, but he wasn’t going to let the boy do this alone, because like Thomas, Minho was just as impulsive and idiotic.

Minho wrapped his knuckles against Jorge’s door, the older man jerking his way in surprise. He flashed Minho a pearly white smile and beckoned him to sit on the dilapidated chair in front of his desk. Minho closed the door behind him, the tale tell click of the lock loud in the quiet office.

“Come Minho, sit, sit. I was just thinking about you, mijo.”

“Great because I’m about to piss you off.” The athlete grinned, his dimples deepening. He dropped an envelope onto Jorge’s desk and laid back into his chair. He throw his hands behind his head without a care in the world.

Jorge’s brows wrinkled. He plucked the letter from the white envelope cautiously, gave Minho a curious quirk of his eyebrow before reading the letter. He pulled back a few minutes later, his expression passive.

“So, you wish to drop out of the team?”

“Yep.”

“You realize you’ll lose your scholarship?”

“I know.” 

Jorge leaned closer, linking his fingers together. “Why are you doing this?”

Minho felt the rage burn beneath his skin, the memory of Janson’s blackmail still raw in his mind. He schooled his face into stoniness, allowed his stone cold resolve to roll over him in waves. He caught the flicker of concern flash in Jorge’s eyes and a part of him twinge with guilt from making the man worry about him.

He would miss Jorge come spring.

“I’ve decided WCKED U isn’t the place for me.” He shrugged. “It’s too much work and I’m not about that life.”

Jorge arched an eyebrow.

“You’re one of the most hardworking people on the team, mijo. Is that really the excuse you’ve going to give me?”

“Whatever makes you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. In fact, I’m worried.”

“I know.”

“Then explain to me what’s going on.”

Minho sat up straighter, his body numb yet his heart racing. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

“Thomas is leaving because he thinks it’ll be beneficial for all three of us. And I’m withdrawing because I don’t want him to be alone next year. He’s been hospitalized twice already because of his shitty personal maintenance. Staying here next semester knowing he’s back home isn’t something I want to deal with.”

Jorge watched him for a moment, his expression hard to read. Minho didn’t care what the man thought about his excuse, Thomas and Newt were the two most important people in his life right now. He would do what he thought was the right thing for both of them. Jorge’s acceptance was not a requirement. (Though, it would have been nice.)

“Look coach, I don’t care if you don’t think my reasons are good, I just know that I’m not going to let Thomas be alone and have Newt worry himself sick about it.”

Jorge raised his hands defensively. He fell back against his chair, swinging it side to side in contemplation.

“It’s your choice, mijo.” He said finally. “We do what we have to for those we love.”

Minho felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. He relaxed into the chair, his muscles already aching from tension he didn’t know he had. He smiled lazily.

“Thanks Jorge.”

His coach smirked. “Anytime Minho.”

* * *

Newt watched Thomas’ sluggish movements as his boyfriend collected his dirty laundry. Watching him, fresh from the hospital and hopped up on a cocktail of medication to fight off the recurrent illness brought Newt memories of the time he had spent weeks in the hospital waiting for the end, regardless if it meant life or death. Thomas’ refusal to stay in bed despite the sleep that clung to his eyelids, made Newt chuckle. He had already tried to convince Thomas to rest, but the sleepy glare the boy gave him made Newt want to smother him from the overload of cuteness. (He would have too if he weren’t so perturbed by Thomas’ horrendous immune system.) 

Two days lost waiting in the hospital; two days of studying gone thanks to blood tests, medication and three hours of arguing on the phone with the insurance company because they wouldn’t, for whatever reason, cover for the boy’s expenses. (It wasn’t like Tommy could do anything about his shitty immune system!)

Newt didn’t blame Thomas for wanting a little bit of normalcy. It seemed so hard to get as of late. And with Janson breathing down their necks, Newt didn’t expect to find normalcy until the holidays – and that was being generous.

“The doctor said to take it easy, Tommy.” Newt sighed.

Thomas stuffed another rolled up pair of sweats into his laundry bag with a huff.

“This is the only chance I’ll get to do my laundry before we go home next week.”

“We still have to take finals. You could do them then.”

“I’m going to celebrate the end of a semester with you and Minho. Laundry is the last thing I’ll do.” The brunet grumbled, rubbing a dry eye.

Newt chortled. He understood Thomas’ plight, especially since Minho had already expressed wanting to take them to a hotel before running home for the holidays. What time would Thomas get to do his laundry?  
Newt leaned against the wall. He continued to watch Thomas’ movement, dark eyes dozing off in thoughts of his own. Thomas never got the chance to explain why he took them out last week, and with the sudden onslaught of sickness and studying for finals, he didn’t expect his boyfriend to ever tell him what he’d done to feel so guilty. Not that he hadn’t tried. He spent far too much time trying to get Thomas to talk, but to no avail.

A part of him felt he didn’t need to ask. He suspected he knew the truth, he only wished he could have talked Thomas out of it.

“Hey Tommy?”

Thomas stilled. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The brunet turned three shades of red. He ducked away from Newt’s intense gaze and focused intently on separating colors from his whites. 

“W-what’s that for?” He mumbled.

Newt shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Oh. I love you too.” He turned to Newt then, his cheeks pink. “I’d kiss you but I’m germy.”

Newt grinned. “I know. Stay over there. I don’t fancy being hospitalized myself. I’m going to disinfect the room once you leave.”

The brunet suddenly pouted. “I take it back. I don’t love you at all.”

“I’ll live.” The blond laughed. He barely dodged a rolled up sock thrown his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't understand how Minho knew Thomas withdrew from school without any evidence: it's because It's something Minho would do, had threatened to do if things with Janson got worse and therefore DID do. Thomas, like Minho, would do anything to make things easier for him and Newt, even if it came at a cost to himself. Minho, in this story, is the same way. Hope that clears up any confusion!
> 
> My regrets regarding this series:
> 
> 1.) Never writing more about Jorge or Janson outside of their interactions with the boys.  
> 2.) Never getting a chance to explain Thomas' recurring illness.  
> 3.) Never getting a proper chance to poke at Thomas' allergies.
> 
> Someone asked me a few months back about Newt's illness and I do plan on writing that as a side story eventually. I haven't forgotten about it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-; tears for the end.
> 
> As always, this chapter is unedited. I will return again to fix all my errors!

They were ready for their exams. Despite the sickness still lingering in his veins, and the medicine that kept him from keeling over a second time – even if it made him drowsy and listless for a good few hours – Thomas felt he, Newt and Minho were ready to finally take down Janson’s stupid English Final. And once they were done, regardless if they still had left over exams, they were celebrating with the gang through movies, food, video games and probably – definitely – booze.

It was the only thing that kept the three of them going the last few days.

* * *

Janson had them separated during their examination, not that it surprised them. He kept Thomas in the front row, blue eyes peering down at the boy as he worked. Minho sat in the far back with Gally while Newt had been positioned somewhere in the middle, away from them all but still within Janson’s line of sight. Thomas made sure he didn’t glance back during the examination. He didn’t want to risk getting them into trouble just because he was curious about their well-being. 

(How difficult it was to keep himself from checking. His leg bounced like a mad man during the silence, the only thing running through his head were worst case scenarios in which Janson could do whatever he pleased just to toss his boyfriends out of the room.)

Forty-five minutes later, Thomas was out the door. He ignored making eye contact with either of his boyfriends on his way out. Though, he did find the time to give Gally a smug smirk before dodging the boy’s attempt in tripping him. (A part of him hoped Janson had seen, if only to get Gally into trouble, but another part hoped he hadn’t. He wanted to embarrass the guy, not kick him out.)

He didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he was far enough away from the classroom and even then, his mind thought back to Newt and Minho.

* * *

“Thank god that’s all over,” Teresa sighed. She sunk into the lobby couch, her backpack slung lazily around her shoulder. Aris maneuvered their books around, making space for the rest of the gang that poured into the quiet lounge.

Minho collapsed next to Thomas, having finally escaped the last of his finals and proceeded to nuzzle his nose into the brunet’s neck like a neglected puppy.

Newt stole the armchair from Gally with a cheeky grin, making the other blond roll his eyes. 

“It could’ve been worse.” Alby commented. He too stole another chair from Gally. (Said boy threw his hands up in the air, frustrated with their games.) “Pretty sure I bombed some of my finals.”

“I’m sure you did okay.” Harriet replied with a grin. “So who’s ready for the after party tonight? After a stressful semester, I say we deserve a little relaxation.”

“Only if you keep the booze to a minimum.” Gally snorted.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Booze is for those who can handle it. Personally, I don’t mind getting a little drunk myself.”

“I for one am definitely looking forward to it.” Minho grinned, throwing an arm around Thomas. “I’m feeling really damn good about that shucking English Final.”

“You better, I worked really hard tutoring yu two.”

“Oh, speaking of which,” Gally turned to Newt, brows raised. “Did you decide on that transfer yet?”

Thomas felt Minho freeze just as he registered Gally’s words. They both turned to Newt, eyes wide in surprise.

“Transfer?” They echoed dumbly.

Gally’s brows disappeared into his hairline.

Newt shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m thinkin’ of transferring.” He muttered nonchalantly.

“To where?”

“Some place else. Haven’t really decided yet.”

“But…” Thomas began, wrapping his mind around the revelation. “WCKD U. is your dream school!”

“Yeah Newt, you busted your ball to get into this place.”

“I did, but if people like Janson are going to make the people I care about miserable then it’s not worth it.” He frowned. “I’ll find better places. WCKD University isn’t the only school in the world, ya know.”

“Very true,” Alby interrupted. He rose to his feet with a hefty stretch. “So, about this after party…”

* * *

“You could have said something,” Thomas said once they were out in the cold.

Newt leaned against the ramp railing, his breath misting beneath the neon lights of the club the gang had dragged them to. Thomas glanced back to Minho, the athlete sweaty from the humidity in the club, his cheeks flustered from a few drinks. He gave Thomas a curious stare, the older male not following Thomas’ line of thought.

The music of the club thumped dully behind them, layers of concrete stifling most of the sound and leaving them in a deafening silence. Thomas licked his dry lips, exhausted from the day and parched from drinking. 

He opened his mouth to continue when Newt’s dark chuckle stopped him cold. 

“Why should I have told you when you and Minho didn’t tell me about dropping out?”

They both froze, Thomas’ heart hammering.

“I – I planned on telling you –“

“When? When next semester started?” Newt shook his head, though Thomas could see the blond’s features smooth out in resignation. “It’s okay Tommy, honestly. I’m not really upset about it.” He quickly frowned. “I am, however, annoyed you both decided to keep it from me.”

“Newt --”

“Well it’s not like you didn’t see it coming.” Minho interjected, rolling his eyes. “We literally had that conversation before Thomas got sick.”

“There’s a difference between talking about it and then actually going out and doing it.” Newt snapped, eyes sharp. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

Minho clicked his tongue. “You know me better than that Newt. I always keep my promises.”

“What about your scholarships?” He questioned, eying them both with a mixture of concern and disappointment. “Do you both realize you’ve thrown your scholarships away?” 

“It was only going to be temporary.” Thomas confessed with a sigh. “My scholarship is renewable. I thought… if I just took a semester off that maybe… I could keep Janson away. I was going to come back.” He wilted underneath their gaze, as though Newt’s penetrating stare dropped heavy weights onto his shoulders. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Newt sighed. “I know you didn’t, Tommy. Please stop thinking it’s your fault.” He pulled him into a hug, burying the boy’s face into his chest as he peered over at Minho, who glared at the ground with obstinacy. “Since neither of you were coming back next semester, I decided to transfer. Somewhere far away from Janson but close enough to keep an eye on you two bloody knuckleheads.”

Thomas held him tight, tipsy and emotional. He was so exhausted. All he wanted to do was go home, cuddle with his boyfriends and go to sleep. 

Newt rubbed small circles into his back, the touch faint against his coat. “You know Tommy, I should be thanking you. When we were in high school, I had these crazy fantasies about how great going to WCKD University would be like. For some reason, I thought everything would be better if we just… went there together, y’know?” Minho snorted, though he didn’t say a word. Newt chuckled. “There’s a lot of shitty arses in WCKD U. huh?”

“Plenty,” Minho muttered. “And Janson’s the cream of the crop.” He glanced at the duo still tight in their embrace with a small pout. “I’m over here freezing my shuck behind and you two are over there having a hugfest. Let me in on this action.” He bolted from his place by the door and threw his arms around them, squeezing Thomas into the middle. “Oh yeah, this is way warmer.”

“You’re suffocating me.” Thomas mumbled, his voice muffled by Newt’s scarf. “Oh god, I can’t breathe.”

Minho and Newt hugged him tighter. 

“You know, I’m getting tired of the club scene.” Minho suddenly grinned. “What do you shanks say we leave the rest of the dorks behind and have fun just the three of us?” 

“Sounds good to me.” Newt snickered. “Although, I’d like to see the look on Harriet’s face when she finds out you called her a “dork”, Min.”

“She’s not going to find out if no one tells her. Come on!” He plucked Thomas away from Newt’s warmth, ignoring the boy’s yelp. “To the hotel room!” He threw an arm around Thomas’ shoulder before planting an affectionate kiss on his temple. “You’re such a worrywart.”

Thomas grumbled, his cheeks rosy, though Minho couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, the alcohol or in embarrassment. 

Newt joined them on Minho’s other side, an amused yet affectionate smile gracing his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one shot "Double the Trouble" is what they end up doing after they leave the party~
> 
> So Trials and Tribulations has finally concluded. There's still a few things I was asked to address during the story's run and I'll do them, but later. If there are any loose ends I didn't address, please let me know!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked by a user on here months ago for an epilogue and I'm sorry it took this long. I had very severe writer's block and it wasn't until I got into Voltron Legendary Defenders and for school to start did I finally get enough inspiration to write something. It also helped that Fever Code comes out this Tuesday. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
> 
> I apologize in advance for any choppy writing or OOC moments. I'm sure Fever Code will get me back into the swing of writing these boys again <3

“Here’s the last one,” Thomas grunted as he dropped a heavy brown box in front of the closet door. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve, his arms worn from a busy day of heavy lifting. He collapsed to the floor, a pained, exhausted wheeze escaping his throat as he sprawled onto his back. His entire body pulsed, sweaty and uncomfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this tired. The thought of a delicious hot bath brought a moan to his lips.

Newt snorted. “Do you have to do that every time we move?”

“Do what?”

“Sprawl on the floor like you’re bloody dying? They’re only boxes.”

“ _Heavy_ boxes,” Thomas retorted. “And yes Newt. I must. It’s tradition.”

“Since when?”

“Since just now. Please let me die. It hurts to talk.”

A clumped roll of tape smacked Thomas on his sweaty forehead. The brunet craned his neck, catching sight of his upside down blond lover ripping off another strip of tape from a box.

“That was unnecessary.” He pouted.

Newt rolled his eyes again, the ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips. “You spent the summer jogging with Minho. I refuse to believe you’re so out of shape because a few boxes were heavy.”

“I climbed three flights of stairs with those boxes, Newt! I am dead.” Thomas fell flat against the floor again, his arms stretched across the carpeted floor. He heard the sounds of tape being crinkled up into a ball and braced himself for another assault, but none came.

He eyed Newt again.

“You should have taken the elevator.”

Thomas blinked.

“We have an elevator?”

Swift as lightning, Newt threw another ball of tape at Thomas. It smacked the boy on the forehead again then bounced off to the side somewhere. Thomas grumbled.

He watched silently as Newt sorted out their toiletries from the box he was working on. He couldn’t see from his place on the floor, but Thomas imagined Newt separated the items based on who owned what and what type of product it was. He scoffed. Honestly, out of the three of them, most of the box’s contents were Minho’s hair care products. Facial creams, five different types of hair gels, a de-frizz diffuser—all Minho’s. And what did Thomas have? A toothbrush and deodorant. He didn’t even have a brush!

“Why does Minho need so much skin products? There’s nothing wrong with his face.”

“That’s _because_ I use so much skin products, shank,” Minho replied.

The older boy filed into the room with the very last of their moving bags. He dropped them carelessly into a corner, though he winced when one of the duffle bags landed heavily on their box of electronics. Newt shot him a dangerous glare but returned to sorting out their bath bottles.

“Sorry man. If anything’s broken in there, I’ll buy you a replacement.”

“Yeah, you bloody better.” Newt huffed.

Minho turned to Thomas then. He eyed the boy’s position, took note of Thomas’ spread out arms, how his chest heaved slowly from breathing. But most importantly, Thomas saw the way Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath Thomas’ rumbled up shirt.  A devious smirk broke across Minho’s face.

Thomas tensed. “Minho don’t!”

“Minho _yes_!” He laughed.

The athlete dived into Thomas before he could escape and peppered his sweaty flesh with obnoxious, wet kisses. Long, slender fingers danced along the side of Thomas’ ribs mercilessly. Thomas exploded into breathy laughter. He struggled feebly against Minho’s weight, his breathless pleas for help falling on deaf ears.

Newt tried not to laugh. He didn’t want to fuel Minho’s dastardly behavior nor did he want to become the next victim of Minho’s spontaneous tickle attack, but the sight of a red-faced, teary-eyed Thomas flailing beneath Minho’s athletic frame made something pleasantly warm erupt in his chest. He shook his head, cheeks aching from smiling too much.

Minho captured Thomas’ lips for a passionate, deep kiss before he climbed back to his feet.

“Protect yourself shank. Don’t wanna leave yourself vulnerable in front of me.” He grinned smugly.

Thomas buried his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief and dangerously warm.

Minho’s dark eyes honed in on Newt like a predator marking his next prey.

Newt stilled.

“Don’t you dare,” He challenged. He reached for his back pocket and whipped out a box cutter. “I will bloody cut you!”

Minho snorted. “No, you wouldn’t. It’s not even open.”

Before Newt could come up with a reply, Thomas pounced onto the unsuspecting athlete. They swayed to the nearest bed and crashed into the mattress in a display of clumsy limbs. The toiletries Newt had painstakingly sorted scattered everywhere. Some clattered to the floor while others vanished behind dark nook and crannies.

(Newt made a mental note to get his shuck-faced boyfriends to fish those out later.)

“You dropped your guard!” Thomas laughed. “Never turn your back on an enemy!”

“You sneaky shank!” Minho cried. He bucked against Thomas’ weight in the hopes of flinging the thinner boy off, but Thomas was like a spider, clinging onto Minho’s muscular body for dear life.

Thomas pinned Minho’s hands over his head and straddled the older boy’s waist with powerful thighs. He shot Newt a silent plea, struggling to keep his hold on Minho, who gained more momentum against his confinement.

To Minho’s chagrin, Newt jumped into the fray.

Together they tickled Minho into submission. He wiggled and kicked, tried to knock them off the bed with his strength, but with Thomas pinning him down and Newt’s fingers assaulting his sides, Minho caved. They didn’t stop until he was gasping for air and streaming tears from his eyes. Red face and utterly defeated, Thomas finally released Minho’s hands and high-fived Newt in victory.

“Bastards,” Minho panted. “Both of ya.”

Thomas and Newt curled into him, their bodies warm and comforting despite the sweat from the day’s labors. Minho wrapped his arms around them, holding them close.

“Thanks for talking me into going back to school.” He said after a while.

“Like we woulda left you behind.”

Thomas rested his head against Minho’s burly shoulder. “nd thanks for coming back home with me. You guys didn’t have to do that.”

“We wanted to,” Newt said, his voice soft. “We’re in this together.”

“Damn right.” Minho sniffed. “Ain’t no one getting in our way. Not Janson, not stress, not sickness— _no one_.”

He squeezed them affectionately, never wanting to let go.

“Oh for the love of—”

All eyes turned to Gally. He stood by the doorway, one hand covering his eyes while Alby held a thumbs up over the boy’s shoulder.

“Can you three stop being gay for five seconds? Jesus! I’m almost glad I won’t have to see you three shanks this semester.”

“Likewise Gally,” Minho muttered. “Though, I’m gonna miss messin’ with your head.”

Gally rolled his eyes, though there was no malice in his expression.

“We just came by to let you shanks know Gally and I were gonna head out. Our flight leaves at 6 and it’s a long ride to the airport from here.”

“Alright. Hold on, we’re coming.” Newt said.

He untangled himself from Minho’s grip and grabbed the car keys from the only dresser in the dorm.

Thomas protested, his muscles screaming, but he rolled out of bed and followed his boyfriends out of the dorm and into the light of a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case readers don't understand what this epilogue entails: Thomas, Newt and Minho transferred to a school in their hometown and Alby and Gally came to help them move in (but are still clearly attending WICKED Uni.)
> 
> I wanted to use the epilogue as a means of tying up loose ends but considering it's been almost a year since I thought about this story, I don't know what those loose ends are anymore LOL.
> 
> Reach out to me via [my tumblr](http://janrielworks.tumblr.com/), I would love to hear from you guys!


	13. Announcement: Curious Proposal

Hey guys! 

Long time no see. I'm alive, as you can tell, and I've returned with a curious proposal. 

I made a post about this on Tumblr but decided I would have a better outreach on here for those who drop by every now and again.

 

I made a post on Tumblr found [here](http://janrielworks.tumblr.com/post/172570480934/trials-tribulations-poll) detailing my current thoughts on the series and wondered if anyone would be interested in owning a zine-like copy of Trials and Tribulations?

 

As stated in the link, it will be a properly edited, updated version of the story with proper chapter arrangements.

 

If there are any questions, you can find me on my [tumblr](http://janrielworks.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment here, if it's easier.

 

(I will delete this announcement in two to three weeks, depending on the outreach.)


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